• 


THE  LITTLE  GOD 

KATHARINE  HOWARD 


5£" 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022245205 


THE 

GAMMANS  POETRY 

COLLECTION 


In  Memory  of 

GEORGE  H.  GAMMANS,  II 

Class  of  1940 

First  Lieutenant  Army  Air  Corps 

Distinguished  Service  Cross 

Missing  in  Action  January  15,  1943 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA  LIBRARY 


Library 
School 


^^c^  yf  GlM^- 


THE 
LITTLE  GOD 

By  Katharine  Howard 

r-pHE  LITTLE  GOD  is  a  book 
•■•  for  grown-ups  and  their 
children:  a  volume  of  verse 
sweet  in  its  simplicity,  with  all 
the  freshness  of  the  shower- 
swept,  sun- warmed  garden,  and 
the  flowers,  birds  and  bees  that 
belong  there.  The  author  has 
put  into  it  the  quaintness  of 
childhood  itself,  and  in  its  reflec- 
tion of  the  mind  of  the  little  god, 
she  reaches  the  very  heart  and 
mystery  of  life. 

The  book  is  illustrated  by  the 
author  with  whimsical  little 
sketches  of  the  flower  folk,  and 
is  dedicated  to  The  Poetry  So- 
ciety of  America  "In  trust  for 
The  Little  Gods  of  the  Future." 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/littlegodchildvehowa 


THE  LITTLE  GOD 

Child  Verse  for  Grown-ups 

BY 

KATHARINE    HOWARD 

Author  of  "The  Book  of  the  Serpent,"  "Eve," 
"Candle  Flame,"  "Poems,"  etc. 

With  illustrations  by  the  author 

THIRD    EDITION 


Boston 

The  Four  Seas  Company 

1920 


Copyright,  ipi6 
Sherman,  French  &  Co. 

Entered   at  Stationers'   Hall 

Foreign  Rights  Reserved 
Translation  Rights  Reserved 

Copyright,  1920,  by 
The  Four  Seas  Company 


The    Pour    Seas   Press 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

THE  POETRY  SOCIETY  OF  AMERICA 

IN  TRUST  FOR 

THE  LITTLE  GODS  OF  THE  FUTURE 


PART  I 


THE  LITTLE  GOD 

Mother  says  there's  a  little  god 

Lives  in  my  garden. 
I  asked  her —     "In  the  tree?" — 
I  asked  her —     "In  the  fountain?" 
And  she  said,  yes,  that  she, 
Plain  as  plain  could  be, 
Everywhere  could  see 

The  little  god. 
"What's  he  look  like,  mother?" 
"Oh,"  she  said,  "like  the  flowers, 
Like  the  summer  showers, 
Like  the  morning  dew, — 
Like  you." 

She  says  he's  everywhere 
In  my  garden — I  can't  see  him  there. 


THE  APPLE  SEED 

Once  a  little  girl  planted 

An  apple  seed — Mother  did  it; 

Now  it  is  a  tall  tree. 

I  wonder  how  tall  I'll  grow 

When  I'm  as  big  as  I  can  be — 

Perhaps  I'll  have  to  be  planted,  too, 

Before  I  can  reach  high, 

Way  up  into  the  blue, 

Clear  up  into  the  sky. 


VIOLETS 

I  just  ate  six  violets, 

'Cause  they  tasted  good; 

I  hope  they  understood. 

I  hope  they  know 

It  was  because  I  love  them  so. 

I've  been  wondering  how 

The  taste  gets  in; 

I've  been  wondering  how 

The  smell  gets  out. 

Mother  says  I've  worn  her  out 

Asking  why  and  what  it's  all  about : 

She  said  I'd  understand  sometime, — 

I'll  be  told  when  I'm  enough  old. 


r.^\ 


PUSSY  WILLOW 


Willow,  willow,  pussy  willow! 

Are  you  growing  kitten  tails? 

Willow,  willow,  kitten  willow! 

Come  closer  on  my  pillow 

Till  I  see  what  you  are  made  of. 

Are  you  going  to  be  a  cat-tail  by  the  brook? 

Let  me  pull  your  fur  to  pieces,  let  me  look. 

Willow,  willow,  kitten  willow! 
Mother  put  you  on  the  pillow 

by  my  head 
'Cause  I  can't  get  up  to-day; 
So  you  have  come  to  play. 

'Cause  I  ate  too  many  flowers, 
Now  I  have  to  pass  the  hours, 

Like  them,  in  bed — 
That's  what  mother  said. 
Willow,  willow,  pussy  willow! 
Come  closer  on  my  pillow. 


CROCUSES 

Crocuses  are  jolly  little  things; 
They  never  mind  the  weather. 
I  like  to  call  them  little  cusses, 

But  mother  fusses. 
In  my  garden  there's  a  lot  of  them 

together, — 
Poked  their  heads  out  of  the  dirt 
And  laughed  at  the  bad  weather, — 

Laughed  all  together; 
Double  ones  and  single, 
Such  a  jolly  crowd! 
I  forgot  and  said  out  loud, 
"Cunning  little  cusses," — 
And  mother  fusses. 


THE  WORM 

When  I  was  first  begun 
I  crept  like  a  worm.     'Twas  fun, — 
I  can't  remember,  but  I  guess  'twas  fun. 
They  have  a  lot  of  creepers — more  than  I ; 

I  wonder  why. 
When  they  grow  up  they'll  get  ahead, — 
They  have  such  lots  of  creepers. 
Mother  said  they  creep  slow 
'Cause  they've  a  long  way  to  go. 
I  love  to  see  them  squirm; 
I  wish  I  could  remember 
When  I  was  just  a  worm. 


THE  SUNBEAM 

Sometimes 

When  the  sun  shines 

In  my  window  about  bedtime 

It  makes  a  golden  road 

Down  to  the  floor. 

I  like  to  kneel  there 

And  say  my  prayer 

Sunset  time, — about  seven, 

When  things  are  going  home. 

It  must  lead  straight  into  the  sun 

For  sunbeams  to  run  home  on 

When  the  day  is  done. 


A  CHANGE  OF  WEATHER 

My  violets  are  cross  with  me; 

They  have  a  look  that  seems  to  say, 

"Go  away!  we  don't  want  to  play." 

I  just  yelled  at  them,  "You're  queer!" 

And  they  pretended  not  to  hear. 

Bad  tempers,  I  suppose; 

Mother  said,  "Yes,  why  not?" 

She  said  they  knew 

What  they  were  about. 

They  wanted  the  sky  blue, 

And  the  sun  to  come  out, — 

And  the  sun  did. 

He  laughed  and  so  did  they; 

There  was  a  changed  weather, 

And  we  all  laughed  together. 


IN  MY  GARDEN 

There's  a  great,  big,  striped  peony 

In  my  garden, 
With  her  leaves  all  smooth  and  sheeny; 
She's  the  mother  of  them  all. 
There's  a  larkspur,  blue  and  tall, 
Standing  close  against  the  wall, — 
Seems  as  if  she's  reaching  up 

Toward  the  sky. 
Soon  she'll  be  as  tall  as  I ; 
Maybe  because  she's  blue 

Like  the  sky 
She  wants  to  go  to  heaven  too. 


MY  FOUNTAIN 

The  birds  bathe  in  my  fountain. 
They  say,  "Tweet,  tweet," 
And  get  in  with  their  feet. — 
Lots  of  things  a  boy  can't  do 
'Cause  mother's  'fraid. 

Once  I  was  in  the  garden  night-time, 
And  I  saw  a  star — by  moon-shine ; 
It  had  come  from  far  and  high, 
Away  up  in  the  sky, 
To  bathe  in  my  fountain. 

I  stirred  the  water  with  a  stick 

And  made  some  splashes, 

And  then  the  star  broke  all  to  bits 

In  little  flashes; — 

I  reached  pretty  far 

Trying  to  poke  that  star. 

Something  mother's  made  of 
Makes  her  very  'fraid  of 
Things  I  do. 


THE  ROSE 


This  morning  when  I  came  awake, 

There  was  a  rose  in  full  bloom 

Looking  right  in  my  window. 

I  knew  her  when  she  was  a  bud 

Just  the  other  day; 

Now  she  is  a  rose,  come  to  stay 

Until  her  leaves  fall  off. 

When  they're  all  off 

She'll  go  away. 

She  won't  be  a  rose — 

But  she'll  return,  she  knows. 

She  won't  go  far, 

And  I'll  save  her  leaves 

In  my  rose  jar. 


THE  HONEY  BEE 

I  picked  a  honey  bee. 
He  must  have  thought  I  was  a  flower, 
'Cause  he  stuck  himself  in  me. 
I  didn't  cry — I  just  screamed — 
Oh,  it  seemed  an  hour 
Till  Mother  came. 
I  made  an  awful  row, — 
But  I'm  all  well  now. 
He  was  a  silly  bee, 
Trying  to  get  honey  out  of  me. 
I  know:  he  heard  Mother 
Call  me  honey,  and  he  thought 
He'd  see. 


THE  MIZ 

There's  lots  of  things  that  grown-ups 

Can't  seem  to  understand. 

They  don't  know  much  about  the  Miz ; 

I  know:  it's  neither  sea  nor  land; 

It's  where  the  things  are  made; 

It's  the  Beginnings'  place. 

I  often  go  there  in  the  night ; 

The  sand  man  sits  upon  my  face 

So  I  can't  see  them,  quite. 

They  squirm  about  an  awful  lot, 

For  most  of  them  are  tails; 

Some  look  like  inky  spread-out  blots, 

And  some  may  grow  to  whales. 

I  talked  to  Daddy  of  the  Miz. 

He  says  there's  no  such  place, 

But  I  just  know  there  is. 

It's  in  the  Bible,  too; 

It's  on  the  page,  "Thou  shalt  not  steal. 

It  tells  about  the  sea  and  all  that 

in  the  Miz. 
So  when  he  says  there's  no  such  place, 
Why,  I  just  know  there  is. 


I  WONDER 

Oh,  dear!     I  wonder  lots  of  things 
About  the  words  the  Bluebird  sings, 
He  swings  and  swings  on  the  trees, 
Or  perhaps  it's  the  breeze 
Swings  him. 

Oh,  dear!     I  wonder  everything, — 
If  it's  just  happiness  they  sing. 
Then  perhaps  birds  have  no 
Need  of  words; 
They  have  wings  and  we  have  words. 


I  RAN  AWAY 

I  ran  away. 

I  climbed  the  garden  wall, 
And  ran  into  the  day; 
It  was  so  big  and  wide 
I  couldn't  play. 
I  don't  know  why, 
But  I  was  quite  afraid, — 
Just  God  and  I 
Alone  in  the  daylight. 
I  was  afraid  He  couldn't 
See  me  from  the  sky, 
I  felt  so  small. 

I  couldn't  play  at  all. 
The  wild  flowers 
Were  different  from  ours. 
And  then,  some  way  or  other, 
I  grew  afraid  of  God, — 
I  wanted  Mother. 


THE  AWFULLEST  THISTLES 

Theophilus  Thistle  and  his  mate 
Are  standing  guard  outside  the  gate. 


SWEET  PEAS 

Oh!  my  sweet  peas  are  out, 

All  the  whole  row — 

Looks  like  a  rainbow! 

I  wonder  if  they  know 

What  they're  about. 

It's  such  a  chilly  day,  and  showers 

Kind  of  hard  on  new  flowers. 

They  look  like  humming-birds 

Perching  along  a  twig, — 

All  sorts  of  ones,  little  and  big. 

Only  they  don't  whir 

Like  humming-birds  and  bees; 

They  don't  stir 

Unless  the  wind  shakes  them — 

'Cause  they're  my  sweet  peas. 


I've  been  thinking  perhaps  they  were  birds 
And  got  so  attached  and  clinging 

They  forgot  singing, 
And  so  at  last  they  got  catched 

To  the  sweet-pea  vine, 
'Course,  it's  why  their  leaves 
Look  like  wings: — 
When  I  think  hard  it's  easy 
To  explain  things. 


MY  RAMBLER  ROSE 

My  rambler  rose  climbs 

In  the  night. 
I  watch  all  day  and  she  stays  still, 
But  in  the  night  she  grows. 
You  see,  she  is  a  rambling  rose. 
I  wish  she'd  ramble  in  the  day. 
Sometimes  I  hardly  move  away, 
I  want  so  much  to  see  her  climb. 
I  think  maybe  she  will  sometime — 
I  care  so  much  that,  when  she  knows, 
She'll  let  me  watch  her  while  she  grows,- 

My  rambler  rose. 


DADDY  ROSE 

I've  hunted  all  the  morning 

To  find  a  daddy  rose. 

The  red  rose  has  a  secret: 

There's  something  sweet  she  knows; 

She  told  it  to  a  honey  bee, — 

I  wish  that  she'd  tell  me. 

I  know!     I  know! 

I  watched,  and  now  I  know 

The  secret  of  the  rose. 

I  know  and  the  bee  knows, — 

There  isn't  any  daddy  rose. 

He  was  a  daddy  bee, 

And  the  red  rose  and  he 

Have  made  a  butterfly, — 

I  saw  it  in  the  sky. 


THE  POBLUM 

I  heard  Daddy  say — talking 

to  Mother — he  said, 
"Life's  a  poblum — wonder  if 

We'll  know  when  we're  dead." 
Funny  the  way  these  grown-ups  talk: 
Other  day  he  took  me  for  a  walk, — 
Buttercups  and  butterflies  in  the  field 

Everywhere. 
Daddy  said,  "This  day  is  very  fair." 
I  said,  "Life's  a  poblum — 

Wonder  if  we'll  know  when 
We're  dead." 
And  Daddy  said,   quite  cross,   "That's 

enough — 
Where'd  you  hear  such  stuff?" 
I  didn't  dare  to  ask,  but  I'll  find  out 

some  day — 
What  is  a  poblum,  anyway. 


TAGS 

The  gardener  put  tags  on  my  flowers: 
"Labels,"  he  said. — I  took  them  off. 
Mother  doesn't  know  what  got  into  my  head; 
I  acted  like  a  wildflower,  she  said. 

I  don't  know, — 
I  didn't  like  them,  so — I  took  them  off. 
I'm  not  to  do  so  any  more: 
I've  promised — 'cause  I  tore 
Them  all  first  go. 

We  don't  like  tags,  the  flowers  and  me, — 
We  like  to  be 
All  free  and  free, 
My  flowers  and  me. 


GROWING  UP 

Once,  when  I  was  very  little, 
More  than  a  year  ago, 
I  heard  some  roses  singing, — 
Else  I  dreamed  it, 

I  don't  know. 
Mother  says  they're  singing  now, 
But  I  don't  hear — 
Makes  me  wonder  which  is  real: 
Dreams  or  daytimes. 

More  than  a  year — 
A  year's  so  long,  I  think, — 
Such  a  long  ways  to  go  in  hours. 
I  wish  I  could  be  done  new  each  year, 
Same  as  my  flowers. 


FLOWER  OR  WEED 

One  day  I  peeked  into  a  seed, — 
I  worried  fear  it  was  a  weed. 
I  couldn't  see  the  leastest  tiny  mite, 
And  mother  said  the  fault  was  with 

My  sight. 
"Listen!"  she  said.     "Now  do  you  hear 

An  angel  sing? 
Now  do  you  hear  the  flutter  of  a  wing?" 
I  couldn't  hear  a  single  thing — 

Although  I  do  sometimes. 
She  said  the  fault  was  with  my  ears, 
And  I  just  bursted  into  tears. 


THE  DRAGON-FLY 

To-day  I  saw  a  dragon-fly, — 

Blue  as  the  sky 

And  sort  of  purple ; 

I  think  he  is  a  flower  with  wings, 

Such  bright  whizzy  things, — 

Seems  as  if  he  sings 

When  he  flies. 

Perhaps  he's  growing  to  a  bird. 
Mother  says,  "There's  no  knowing,- 
Everything's  on  the  way." — 
Perhaps  I'll  be  a  bird  some  day. 


GETTING  MISTOOK 

Toadstools  are  wicked, 
Mushrooms  are  good, — 
And  yet  they  look  the  same : 
I  guess  it's  so  with  me, — 
Hard  telling  me  apart 
When  I  am  good  from  when 

I'm  bad. 
Some  things  are  wild,  some  things 

are  tame, 
And  look  almost  the  same: 
I  guess  it's  easy  to  get  mistook 
By  way  things  look. 

It's  easy  to  tell  wrong  from  right 
'Cept  some  person  interferes, — 
Something  inside  of  me  that  no  one 

hears  tells  me, 
But  then  that  person  says, 

"Oh,  no— 
That  isn't  right, — that  isn't  so." 
I  don't  think  it's  very  much 

That  persons  know. 


BUTTERFLIES 

I  dance  with  butterflies, 
They  dance  with  me; 
They  fly  from  flowers  to  flowers 
All  of  the  day-time  hours. 

I  wonder  if  they  dance  at  night, — 
I  cannot  see  them  by  starlight ; 
Perhaps  they  go  to  dream  upon  a  star, 
Their  wings  can  fly  so  far. 

Once  I  had  wings,  because 
I  fly  in  dreams; 
And  so  it  seems 
I  wouldn't  know  the  way, — 
Only  I  had  wings  some  day 
Long  ago. 


AFTER  THE  STORM 

Something  happened  in  my  garden 

in  the  night: 
When  I  went  to  bed  my  flowers  were 

there  all  right; 
When  the  storm  was  over,  I  went  out 
And  found  their  petals  scattered  all  about. 
I  looked  and  looked,  but  all  I  found 
Was  leaves  and  leaves  upon  the  ground. 

Mother  says,  because  it's  Fall; 

I  don't  understand  at  all. 

The  leaves  have  fallen  'cause  it's  Fall? — 

It  doesn't  sound  like  sense  at  all 

'Less  that  is  how  it  got  its  name, 

'Cause  Fall  and  Autumn  is  the  same. 

I'm  feeling  sort  of  sad  to-day, — 
There  seems  so  much  to  what  I  say. 
Last  night  I  went  to  bed  so  glad, 
But  now  I'm  feeling  sort  of  sad. 


When  I  have  gone  to  sleep  to-night 
And  Mother  has  put  out  the  light, 
Maybe  I  won't  wake  up  at  all, 
And  Mother'll  say,  "Because  it's  Fall." 

Now  Mother's  tucked  me  into  bed, 
And  there  were  lots  of  things  she  said, 
'Cause  I  am  feeling  very  sad 
Although  I  have  done  nothing  bad. 

My  dear  old  flowers  are  all  gone  dead, 
But  there  were  lots  of  things  she  said: 
She  said,  "Next  Spring  the  flowers  will  grow 
Just  as  they  did  last  Spring,  you  know, 
They've  hid  themselves  inside  their  seeds 
For  fear  of  Jack  Frost's  naughty  deeds." 

When  it  grows  very  cold  indeed 
I  guess  I'll  crawl  inside  my  seed. 


FAIRIES 

Mother  lit  the  fairy  lantern 
When  I  went  to  bed 
'Cause  'twas  Hallowe'en, 
And  there  came  into  my  room 
All  the  trees  I've  ever  seen 
And  bowed  to  me. 

They  waved  their  branches  over  me 
And  grew  against  the  wall, — 
Young  trees  they  were 
That  stood  up  straight  and  tall. 
Mother  said,  "Do  you  see  fairies?" 
I  had  thought  them  leaves. 
Perhaps  it's  just  what  one  believes, 
'Cause  when  she  said  it, 
There  were  fairies  everywhere. 


THE  LITTLE  BEAST 

Mother  said  that  I  must  always  tell 
The  truth,  and  it  would  make  her  glad; 
For  so  I'd  be  an  honorable  gentleman  as  well 
As  a  dear  little  lad. 

To-day  a  person  came  to  tea. 
Mother  and  Daddy  both  agreed, 
Before  she  came,  that  she 
Was  just  as  horrid  as  could  be. 
And  then  they  made  her  tea 

As  sweet,  as  sweet, 
And  put  a  footstool  to  her  feet 
And  gave  the  biggest  cake. 
I  thought  they  had  made  some  mistake. 
I'd  be  an  honorable  gentleman,  and  so 
When  she  got  up  to  go 
I  told  her  what  they'd  said. 


And  now  I'm  put  to  bed. 

Mother's  not  glad; 

She  didn't  call  me 

Her  dear  little  lad. 

I  seem  to  have  been  bad 

Because  I  told  the  truth; 

She  says  I  must  not  tell  it 

Like  a  little  beast, 
That  I  must  be  polite  at  least. 

I'm  not  an  honorable  gentleman 

Nor  a  dear  little  lad; 
I'm  just  a  growly  little  beast 
With  scratchy  claws, — and  all  because 

I  told  the  truth: — at  least 
I  am  a  truthful  beast. 

Mother  just  came  and  kissed  my  eyes; 
I  growled  and  showed  my  scratchy  claws,- 
And  then  she  said  she  loved  me 

'Cause — 
I  was  her  little  beast. 


tz^mSB 


THE  LITTLE  VOICE 

We  were  in  the  pantry  by  our  self, 

Me  and  the  cake; 
It  looked  so  pleasant  on  the  shelf, 

I  climbed  up  there  myself. 
I  heard  a  little  voice  inside  the  cake 
Say,    "Eat    me."     I    don't    think    'twas    a 

mistake. 
I  pretended  I  was  a  little  mouse 
Trying  to  get  inside  my  house; 
The  little  voice  was  crying  to  come  out, 
And  so  I  nibbled  all  the  edge  about. — 
Then  mother  came,  and  all  at  once  I  knew 
It  was  a  wrong  thing  to  do. 
I  wasn't  being  good, 
But  mother  understood: 
Mother's  so  dear  when  I  have  things  to  tell, 
And  she  can  make  a  hurt  place  well. 


SHADOWS  ON  THE  WALL 

Sometimes  in  winter 

When  I've  gone  to  bed, 

The  firelight  shines  upon  the  wall; 

The  shadows  flicker  here  and  there, 

And  I  can't  go  to  sleep  at  all. 

Queer  shapes  are  dancing  everywhere, 

And  I  can  make  them,  too; 

I  make  them  with  my  hands, — 

Geese  and  hens  and  foxes  too, 

And  beasts  that  live  in  foreign  lands. 

I  make  them  eat  each  other  up ; 
The  elephant  eats  his  brother  up. — 
And  then — I'm  so  afraid 
I  pray  to  God  my  soul  to  keep, 
And  then  I  go  to  sleep. 


BEFORE  I  CAME 

Grown-ups  are  always  telling 

About  things  happened 

Before  I  came; 

Nothing's  the  same  now  I've  come. 

Funny,  I  think. 

Things  happened  to  me,  too, 

Before  I  came; 

Nothing's  the  same. 

I  know  I  had  wings: 

I  remember  how  I  flew. 

Those  are  some  of  the  things 

I  remember  night-times. — 

I  do  it  in  dreams 

So  I  won't  forget  too. 


MOODS 

Mother  has  moods  and  I  have  moods : 

They're  queer. 
Sometimes  I  see  them  clear, — 
That's  when  they're  through 

tormenting  me. 
Their  hair  is  black  as  black  can  be, 
It  sticks  out  straight  and 

frightens  me; 
And  they  have  eyes  that  look  out, 
Down,  all  turned  about, — 
They  look  the  wrong  way  out. 
They  come  and  take  us  when  they  please 
And  make  us  do  the  things  they  like. 
She  says  that  we  must  make  them 
Do  the  things  we  like, 
And  then  perhaps  they'll  go  away 
To  that  place  where  they  stay. 
It  must  be  dismal  in  the  house 
Where  black  moods  live; 
When  I  have  extra  happiness  to  give 

I'll  send  them  some. 
I'll  send  it  on  the  wings  of  joy; — 
They  won't  refuse  it  from  a  little 

boy. 


PART  II 


SUMMER 

Summer's  come.     How  my  garden  grows  :- 
Violets  in  bunches,  pansies  all  in  rows, — 

Same  old  pansies  wearing  faces 
That  they  wore  last  year — 
Laughing  at  me — looking  queer 
Out  the  corners  of  their  eyes, 
Making  believe  that  they  are 

Awful  wise. 

Oh,  I'm  going  to  have  such  lovely  fun, 
For  the  summer's  just  begun; 
I'm  not  going  to  dread  the  fall, 

'Cause  after  all 
Mother  Nature  tucks  them  in  their  seed, 
Just  as  Mother  tucks  me  into  bed 

For  the  sleep  I  need. 


V*\ 


BULLDOGS  ON  A  STEM 

Like  little  bulldogs  on  a  stem 
My  pansies  look, — I  bark  at  them; 
Perhaps  if  I  could  hark 
Enough,  I'd  hear  them  bark 

at  me. 
If  they  had  tails  they  might  get  free 
And  run  around  and  play  with  me. 


SMELLERS 

Lilies  of  the  valley 

Smell  sweeter  than  the  others; 

They're  my  favorites  and  Mother's 

for  smellers. 
They  seem  to  catch  my  breath 
And  make  me  glad, — 
Somehow  it's  mixed  with  feeling  sad. 
Everything  seems  mixed, — 

I  wonder  why? 
I  think  I'd  like  to  mix  things  too. 
Maybe  it's  why  I  like  the  lilies'  smell, 
Because  they're  sad  and  glad  together, 
And  so  being  mixed  is  just  as  well; 
It  isn't  bad, — it's  like  the  sun 
And  rain  in  April  weather. 


WHEN  MOTHER  SINGS 

There  are  some  things 

I  remember  when  Mother  sings 

Before  I  sleep. 

Once  I  was  a  blue  flower 

On  a  tall  green  stem; 

I  grew  on  a  hillside 

And  could  see  far  and  wide; 

I  didn't  feel  alone, 

For  growing  near 

There  was  a  vine 

Red  in  the  sunshine. 

There  are  some  things 

I  remember 

When  Mother  sings 

Before  I  sleep. 


WILD  LILIES 

Once  I  planted  some  wild  lilies 

from  the  wood; 
Now  they  have  become  quite 

tame  and  good. 
Mother  says  they're  full  of  graces, — 
I  think  they've  very  funny  faces. 

Every  morning  I'm  afraid  they'll 

not  be  there; 
Though  I  weed  and  water  them  with  care, 
I'm  very  much  afraid  they'll 

run  away, 
'Cause  mother  says  I'll  find  them 

gone  some  day. 

I  wonder  why  mother  said  I'd  find 

them  gone  some  day; — 
Does  it  mean  I  too  must  run  away? 
Must  I  go  and  find  them  where  they  stay? 
I  think  about  it  lots  while  I'm  at  play. 


FLOWER  FACES 

When  very  hard  and  long  I  look, 
My  flowers  have  faces  that  I've 

seen  in  a  book, — 
Or  perhaps  it  was  a  fan. 
I  think  I  could  see  anything 
If  I  looked  long  enough; 
It's  things  I'm  thinking  of  I  see, — 
They  all  come  out  to  play  with  me. 

Sometimes  I  get  afraid;  I  say, 
"I  do  not  like  you,  go  away!" 
But  they  won't  go,  they  stay; 
And  I  go  somewhere  else  to  play. 


ASTERS  AND  ASTERS 

Asters  and  asters,  a  whole  row 

All  alike, — must  be  brothers 

Or  sisters,  I  don't  know  which. 

I  don't  love  them  as  I  do  the  others. 

They're  not  wild;  they're  tame, — 

And  they  look  all  the  same. 

I  wonder  if  they  feel  that  way. 

They  won't  play, — 

They  just  look  at  me  and  say 

nothing. 
Oh,  dear!     I'll  go  the  other  path 

to  play. 
They're  so  dull — I'll  run  away; 
I  won't  come  near  them  all  day, 

So  there! 
They  won't  care — they'll  only  say 

nothing. 


Kr 


fr 


MOTHER  NATURE 


I  just  picked  a  rose  to  pieces. 

I've  been  thinking  about 

All  the  work  that  Mother  Nature  does 

Before  a  rose  is  ready  to  come  out, — 

All  the  different  parts, 

And  other  things,  like  those 

Things  you  can't  tell  about, — 

The  looks  and  the  smell  of  a  rose. 

There  must  be  very  much  that 

Mother  Nature  knows; 

I  think  she  did  experiments 

Before  she  did  a  rose. 


FEELING  CROOKED 

Life's  hard,  I  think. 

It's  been  hard  all  day. 

I've  had  a  crooked  feeling  inside, 

And  everything  I  did  was  the  same  way. 

Mother  says  when  I'm  better  inside 

I'll  be  better  outside. 

I'm  going  to  see: 

I'll  be  as  good  as  I  can  be. 


ALL  IN  THEIR  BEST 

The  flowers  are  dressed 

All  in  their  best 

Because  it  is  their  season; 

But  I  think  that  the  reason 

Is  that  I'm  going  to  have  my  fete, 

And  they  are  afraid 

They  might  be  late. 


AUNTIE 


Auntie's  come.     She's  a  girl; 
She's  Daddy's  sister, — 
And  her  hair's  all  a  yellow  curl. 
She  goes  this  way  when  she  walks, 
As  if  she  had  a  tail, — 
Wriggle,  wriggle  like  a  fish, 
And  she  laughs  while  she  talks. 
About  night  time  she's  some  fun: 
Lets  me  play  with  her  hair, 
And  tells  me  stories  that  scare. 
It  shouldn't  be  done,  Mother  says, 
'Cause  I  had  a  night-mare 
All  wound  in  Auntie's  hair. 
I  couldn't  get  loose; 
I  tried  so  very  hard, — and  then 
I  cried. 
Mother   says   there's  no  excuse. 


II 

Auntie's  gone  away; 

She  couldn't  stay. 

She's  coming  back  some  day; 

She's  going  to  be  my  wife. 

I'll  have  her  all  my  life, 

All  tangled  in  her  yellow  hair — 

Such  soft  hair. 

But  I'm  sort  of  'fraid  of 

That  night-mare. 

I  think  I'll  need  Mother  too; 

If  the  hair  wound  tight 

And  the  mare  galloped  in  the  night, 

Mother  would  know  what  to  do. — 

Yes,  I'll  need  Mother  too. 


THE  CANNIBAL 

Mignonette  and  violets  and  roses, — 
All  these  smelly  ones  I  think 

are  made  for  noses. 
I  like  them  best. 
Makes  the  others  sort  of  mad, 

you  see; 
They've  been  sticking  out  their  tongues 

at  me. 

I'm  so  glad  that  we  have  summer  showers, 
'Cause  I  couldn't  live  without  my  flowers. 
Sometimes  I  love  them  so  I  eat  them; 
Mother  says  it's  how  a  cannibal  would 
treat  them. 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  DOVER 

Mother  says  Land's  End 

Is  at  Penzance, 

And  clear  days  you  can  see 

'Most  to  France. 

But  I  know — Auntie  told  me — 

There's  an  edge  at  Dover 

Where  I  could  see  things 

If  I  looked  over. 

I  climbed  on  top  the  gate-post 
And  looked  down  the  road; 
Something  was  hopping  by, — 
It  was  a  toad. 
I  think  he  was  on  the  way  to 

Dover, 
Going  to  the  edge  to  look  over. 
They  are  so  free,  toads  are, — 
They  can  hop  so  far. 


DANDY-LIONS 

The  dandy-lions  in  the  field 
Have  sent  a  lot  of  ships  a-flying 
Over  my  garden  wall; 
With  their  white  sails  they're  trying 
To  take  my  garden  for  their  own; 
Lots  and  lots  of  them  have  flown 

over  the  wall. 
Mother  calls  them  yellow  perils; 
I  call  them  dandy-lions. 
I'd  like  to  have  them  come  some  more, — 
I'd  like  to  have  them  in  and 

hear  them  roar. 
Mother  says  they  must  be  kept  outside  the 

wall 
Or  there'll  be  no  other  flowers  at  all; 
Perhaps  they'd  devour  them — so  they  must 

come  no  more. 
But  oh!     I  want  to  hear  them  roar. 


THE  ZOO  AT  TEA 


I'm  going  to  invite  the  Zoo  to  tea, — 
It's  just  pretend,  as  you  will  see. 
The  Elephant  and  the  Kangaroo — 
I  know  a  rhyme  about  those  two. 
I  think  the  Hartebeeste  and  the  Gnu 
Should  go  into  a  poem  too. 
Giraffes  are  queer;  they  don't  fit  in. 
They're  very  different  indeed, — 
Their  necks  keep  getting  in  the  way; 
One  never  knows  how  long  they'll  stay. 
But  Elephants  are  lovely  things; 
When  they  are  angels  they'll  have  wings. 
Perhaps  their  ears  might  grow  enough 
If  they  could  have  some  more  ear  stuff. 
I  think  that  Elephants  were  flowers 
A  little  different  from  ours; 
Maybe  they  were  a  giant's  flowers 
And  helped  him  pass  his  lonely  hours. 


II 

The  Lion  and  the  Tiger, — oh! 
What  will  I  have  for  them  to  eat? 
I  think  the  Tea  will  seem  quite  slow 
Unless  they  have  a  little  meat. 
Suppose  they  ate  the  others  up, — 
The  monkeys  and  the  china  pup! — 
Of  course  I  have  invited  him, — 
They'd  break  him  if  they  bited  him. 
I  think  I  won't  invite  the  Zoo. 
The  kitten  and  the  pup  will  do, 
And  tiger  lilies  three  or  two. 
Some  dandy-lions  might  get  through; 
There  is  a  place  if  they  but  knew, — 
I  made  it  in  the  wall. 


BUGABOO 

Down  in  the  corner  of  my  garden 

There  is  something — 

Bugaboo — bugaboo ! 
I'm  not  afraid  of  you. 
What  makes  you  do  that  way, — 
What  makes  you  cry  woo!  woo? 

Bugaboo!  bugaboo! 
I'm  not  afraid  of  you. 

I  don't  think  so, 

I  don't  know. 

Now  mother's  come. 
"I  thought  you  knew,"  she  said, 
"It  was  a  little  wind  that  blew, 
Trying  to  get  through  the  garden  gate, 
Afraid  it  would  be  late 
for  bed-time. 


"Crying,  Woo!  woo!  gate, 
Don't  stand  in  my  way. 
Woo!  woo!  let  me  through, 
I  can't  wait  after  sunset, — 
I'm  afraid  of  bugaboos." 

Mother  said  I  was  the  Bugaboo 
The  wind  is  'fraid  of: 
I  guess  he  don't  know 
What  I'm  made  of. 

Come  in,  Bugaboo! 
I'm  not  afraid  of  you. 


A  WALK  WITH  DADDY 

I  went  to  walk  with  Daddy 
Through  the  fields  and  far  away. 
The  sun  was  making  shadows, 
Everything  was  out  at  play. 
The  vines  were  playing  tag, 
They  caught  me  by  my  feet, 
And  all  the  birds  were  singing, 
Singing  high  and  sweet. 
The  grass  was  feeling  funny, 
It  sort  of  laughed  at  me, 
And  a  toad  came  hopping  after 
As  pleasant  as  could  be. 


FALLING  OFF  THE  EDGE 

Mother  explained  to  me  about  Krupp 

And  everything  about  war, 

And  I  gave  up  caring: 

I  loved  my  gun, 

But  I  just  gave  it  up, — 

And  then  the  war  begun: 

It  was  silly — just  when  I'd 

decided  not. 
I  heard  Daddy  talking  to  a  man 
Explaining  how  the  war  began. 
Too  many  folks,  "spansion,"  he  said; 
All  those  people  got  to  go  dead. 
If  there's  too  many  people, 
Why  aren't  they  brave  enough 
To  go  near  the  edge  and  fall  off? 
They  needn't  go  all  off, — 
But  just  save  enough  to  start  new; 
That's  not  so  much  to  do. 
There's  an  edge  at  Dover 
Where  you  can  lie  on  your  stomach 

And  look  over. 


THE  EXPLAIN  BOOK 

My  new  flowers  have  bloomed. 

A  long  while  it  took. 

Daddy  says  they  have  a  fool  look. 

I'm  afraid  he'll  frighten  them, 

And  they'll  get  mad  and  won't  stay. 

I  don't  think  it's  polite 

To  speak  that  way. 

There's  lots  of  things  that  grown-ups 

say,  don't  seem  polite: 
If  I  said  them  it  wouldn't  be  right. 


Mother  talked  to  Daddy.     She  said, 
"You  work  in  chemicals,  so  do  they; 
You're  a  business  man, 
And  they're  business  flowers; 
They  have  their  work  to  do, — 
Cherry  and  peach  blossoms  are  that 

way  too." 
She  said  she'd  explain 
When  she  knew  more  herself. 
There's  an  explain  book 
In  the  study  on  the  top  shelf; 
When  she  has  time  she'll  look. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  MOON 

The  man  in  the  moon 

Came  into  my  room, 

He  came  in  the  window  way; 

He  got  on  the  bed  with  me 

And  stayed  till  almost  day. 

And  mother  said, 

"It's  what  you  have  read, — 

It  stayed  in  your  head,  you  see." 

Before  he  went  out 

He  danced  about 

By  the  light  of  himself  on  the  floor — 

He  danced  on  the  top  of  his  head. 

I  wish  he  would  come  some  more 

And  dance  about  on  the  floor. 

Every  night  when  I  go  to  bed 

I  try  to  dance  on  the  top  of  my  head 

The  man  in  the  moon 

Came  into  my  room. 

He  came  in  the  window  way. 


GRAND'MERE 


Grand'mere's  come  to  see  me 
All  the  way  from  France. 
She's  very  old  and  strange 

and  so  polite; 
She  is  like  a  flower 
That's  most  gone  to  seed, 
Ready  to  bloom  again — 

Almost,  not  quite. 
She  wears  silken  gowns, 
Swishy  ones  that  shine 
Something  like  a  fairy — 
Something,  not  quite. 
She's  something  like  a  rose 
That  the  leaves  fell  off, 
Mostly  gone  to  Heaven — 

Mostly,  not  quite. 
Perhaps  she  talks  with  angels 
In  her  dreams  at  night, 
'Cause  in  the  morning  her  eyes 

are  shining  bright. 


THE  THORN  TREE 

Oh,  dear!     I've  had  trouble 
With  the  thorn  tree. 
I  think  he  must  be  some 
Relation  to  the  bee, 
'Cause  he's  got  a  sting 

that  stuck  me. 
Oh,  dear!  and  my  stocking's 

got  a  hole — 
Most  the  whole  of  it's  a  hole. 
Ah,  ha, — now  Mother's  come. 
She'll  be  so  glad 
Because  I  didn't  get  scratched 

bad. 


STRANGE  FACES 

I  don't  know  those  flowers: 
They  have  strange  faces. 
They've  climbed  up  to  look 

over  the  wall. 
I  don't  know  who  they  are  at  all. 
Perhaps  they  know  some  flowers  inside 
And  want  to  come  over  and  call. 
I'm  not  going  to  ask  them  in  to  stay 
Even  if  they  are  relations: 
Mother  doesn't  always  ask 
My  cousins  in  to  play, 
Often  she  says,  "Some  other  day." 


MIDNIGHT 


The  dream  stopped  all  at  once. 

Mother  had  come  into  my  room. 

She  said,  "The  century  plant's  abloom." 

It  was  midnight,  so  Mother  said. 

She  let  me  get  out  of  my  bed 

And  wrapped  me  soft  on  Daddy's  arm 

So  that  I  could  not  come  to  harm, 

And  then  we  tiptoed  down  the  stair 

And  caught  the  flower  unaware. 


It  was  the  middle  of  the  night. 
The  moon  was  shining  very  bright, 
And  all  the  garden  was  as  light 

as  day. 
And  there  were  lanterns,  too,  all 
Set  upon  the  garden  wall, 
As  if  the  flowers  had  a  ball. 
And  then  I  saw  a  lovely  sight, 
For  there  was  something  big  and  white- 
A  flower  that  came  awake  at  night. 
I  felt  and  felt  all  kinds  of  ways, — 
It  was  so  different  from  the  days. 
I'd  like  that  sort  of  flower  to  be; 
Folks  would  get  up  to  look  at  me. 


GROWING  UP 

The  wind  was  playing  with  my  hair. 
It  matches  to  a  daffodil. — 
And  mother  kissed  me  sort  of  still, 
And  said  to  Daddy,  "Fair — how  fair! 
The  little  god." 

I  didn't  see  him  when  I  looked — 

he  wasn't  there. 
The  sun  was  shining  and  the  day 

was  fair. 
I  didn't  see  him;  I  looked  everywhere. 

To-morrow  I  am  going  to  school, 
And  mother's  going  to  bob  my  hair. 
I'll  be  a  grown-up. — I  can't  cry, 
But  mother  does. — I  wonder  why. 


THE  SCALAWAG 

I've  been  to  school  a  week  to-day, 
And  every  day  I've  run  away, — 
But  it's  no  use. 

It's  no  use  trying  to  be  free, — 
They've  gone  and  stuck  me  to  a  tag ; 
It's  Scalawag. 


This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  is  DUE  on  the 
DAY  indicated  below: 


/ 


/ 


